


Day 3-No Escape From Reality

by StarCrysis



Series: 365 Day Writing Challenge [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Betrayal, Feels, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark, Poor Theon, Romantic Angst, Self-Hatred, Theon-centric, minor ramsay, ramsay mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarCrysis/pseuds/StarCrysis
Summary: With inner demons as powerful as Theon's, I'd be surprised if they weren't in his dreams too.I wrote this for the 365 Writing Challenge at http://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/Original Tumblr Post: http://starcrysis.tumblr.com/post/168090184058/3-the-vessel-write-about-a-ship-or-other-vehicle





	Day 3-No Escape From Reality

The sun burnt red onto Theon’s eyelids. His face wasn’t strangled in pain, nor was it happy and smiling. It just was. He shifted and opened his eyes, seemingly in slow motion. It was as if the years had washed away, like the cool sand he was sunken into. It brushed between his fingers as he floated up to sit.

  


Floated? The thought flew away into the breeze as fast as it had come, and he peered upon the Pyke. He felt no fear or contempt. He just heard the waves crashing in behind him, as his eyes laid on the five earthly protrusions.

  


Waves? The waves were crashing, but not on their own. He was facing the opposite direction now, awash in the great ship that beheld him. Black Wind was in full view now, and if a sun were to peer through the clouds, neither he nor anyone else would be able to see it.

  


Everything went black for an instant, and when the muddied view returned, Theon’s feet felt light on the strong wood of the deck. He wasn’t surprised though, as he turned towards the helm. He darted over to his sister. Her hair clung to the back of her neck under the harsh breeze. Theon noticed; they were now moving through salt, but it came to him more as a memory.

  


“Are we almost there?” The question passed his lips, imposing. Imposing and reminiscent. She was turned to him then, one hand still gripping the helm. Her hair was now plastered on her face, and a trademark smirk was planted under it.

  


“We’re almost here, brother,” the words seemed to wisp out of her cooly. Theon raised his voice.

  


“Where?” he echoed into the darkness… when had it become dark?

  


“Here,” she turned dramatically, her hand outstretching beyond the bow. Behind it, huge walls began to sprout. Snow began to catch in his eyelashes. He blinked once.

  


“You’d better do what you have to!” Yara’s words echoed from somewhere far off. Beyond his eyelids peeling apart once more, was… fire?

  


His hands cracked and burned, but he could only feel them as if it was a memory. His hands were gripping each boys’ arm. Their screams were that of a thousand banshees, and Theon’s began to add to the utterly horrific noise. He tried desperately to pull them out.

  


The fire burned away; he watched as the ashes went with them.

  


He looked at his hands briefly. Were they burnt? There was no time to find out, apparently, because they both disappeared under someone else’s. His green eyes met blue.

  


“I’ll take care of that burn for you.” The voice sounded familiar, but all he could fathom were the blue orbs peering into him. He felt himself slowly slip away. So familiar.

  


As the world started to violently wisp away, he fell back, off of the snowy ground and into a vacuum of space. He heard something far away as he kicked his legs through the particles of snow and dirt separating and dissipating. The sound that rang in his ears, it was a voice; however, distinguished from the former.

  


“I’m sorry!” The words rang in his head like a gunshot, deafening him. The sobs of the broken voice seemed to choke down anything intelligible, except the repetitive miasma of “I’m sorry.”

  


“No..” Theon began to say to himself but was cut off by a sharp, loud sob; louder than any of the other voices in his head. All the same outcry.

  


“Robb!” it shrieked, with unsettling distinction. Theon began to choke. His own voice sounded again, much more recognizable. No, it was his mouth moving.

  


“I’m sorry!” his personal tongue reverberated, crashing into all the others screeching into his brain. The words “I’m sorry” echoed around him, as if there were a thousand Theons apologizing at once… A wetness bathed his face, and salt tears collected at his chin.

  


Not tears. Salt water. He looked up. “Robb..” he choked on his words as the blue-eyed baptist continued pouring, drowning him.

  


He could barely see him through the saline waterfall crashing into his face, asphyxiating him. But he knew it was Robb. The younger’s face was not light, however, as it shown with sorrow and regret. The crowd of apologies grew louder until they almost sounded like screeching dragons. Theon began to choke; to actually choke, and Robb began to disappear.

  


“I don’t care,” came the same voice from the fire.

  


* * *

  


“Wake up, Reek,” Came Ramsay’s empty words. Theon struggled to spit out the water that was strangling him. Much of it slid into his lungs, and he puked out the rest, coughing furiously. He could not feel his arm, as per usual. He had grown used to not feeling his arms, falling asleep on this… device. He sometimes wished Ramsay would just cut them off.

  


“Reek, Reek, it rhymes with freak! Reek, Reek, it rhymes with freak!” Ramsay sung with glee.

  


He desperately hoped that this was the nightmare, and he would wake up soon.


End file.
